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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986183">Hold me now, it's hard for me to say I'm sorry - a series of season five vignettes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini'>Poutini</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The sequence and series of events [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Play, Anal Sex, Comfort Sex, Drunk Sex, Fluff, M/M, Make up sex, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Tender Sex, Will write porn for poutine, fantasies, so tender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:08:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ten vignettes highlighting the navigation and resolution of conflict, and a few other softer situations, in David and Patrick's relationship through physical touch.  Sex.  I mean sex.  Mostly.  Like pretty much entirely.  </p><p>Follows <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867119/chapters/57369649"> Like a virgin - a series of vignettes from season four </a> that highlights the development of David and Patrick's physical relationship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The sequence and series of events [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>273</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Guess who’s back?  Back again.<br/>Poutini’s back.<br/>Tell a friend.</p><p>Now this looks like a fic marked E<br/>So everybody just follow me<br/>'Cause we need a little fic to read<br/>'Cause it feels so empty without D &amp; P</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David’s back arched in response to Patrick’s fingers inside him.  Patrick moved with him, his free hand stroking David’s cock lazily.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So tell me again about this quiz?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David opened his eyes slowly, and struggled to focus.  He groaned, unable to string together any sort of sensical syllables.  Patrick’s fingers continued to explore, slick </span>
  <em>
    <span>ins</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>outs</span>
  </em>
  <span> and pressing up against </span>
  <em>
    <span>that spot</span>
  </em>
  <span> that never failed to drive David wild.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“David, you said we needed a...<em>generator</em>, was it?” Patrick slowed his fingers, removing them excruciatingly slow, and sitting back on his heels.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David cracked one eye open, shooting Patrick the best dirty look he could, given his current circumstance.  Patrick’s response was to smirk, and hold up a black silicone toy.  He coated it with lube, pressing its tip to David’s rim, applying gentle pressure until it slipped in, a low, satisfied moan escaping David’s lips.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you saying...we need....,” Patrick pressed a button at the base of the toy “more buzz?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Where’s David?”  Patrick asked Stevie, a worried crease across his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Wherever he is, I think he needs you, not me, so I’m gonna go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the Apothecary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick locked the door behind her, and headed into the storeroom where he expected David had taken refuge.  He wasn’t expecting, however, to find David tucked into the corner of the loveseat, his knees drawn to his chest, crumpled tissue in one hand, and the other seeking distraction, scrolling desperately yet mindlessly through social media.  He looked up at Patrick, revealing reddened eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a bit of anger shining behind the tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick knew he was on thin ice.  “Can I sit?”  David nodded, and Patrick sat close enough for their thighs to touch, but nothing more.  He lifted his arm, and to his relief, David tucked himself into Patrick, and burrowed his face in his chest.  What had been sniffles turned into sobs that wracked his body.  Patrick just held on tight.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity, the sobs subsided, and Patrick braved a question.  “What can I do?”  David didn’t answer right away, taking a deep breath before speaking.  “You’ve acted like a real dick today.  I think...I think you need to make it up to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick inhaled slowly.  “Okay, David.  And what does that look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sniffled, calming his breaths.  “I think it starts with you sucking my cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick was taken aback.  This assertiveness was new.  David had previously been quite direct and vocal in his desires, but this.  This </span>
  <em>
    <span>tone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  This </span>
  <em>
    <span>direction. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was new.  And while Patrick accepted that David was quite right - he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been a dick today - he found himself quite excited at the prospect of being told what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick slunk to his knees, and pulled David’s legs so that his feet were planted firmly on the ground, his legs spread just enough to allow Patrick to slip between. He made quick work of the drawstring tie of David’s pants, pulling them, and his boxer briefs down to his ankles and off altogether, all under the penetrating gaze of an emotionally fragile, yet commanding, David Rose.  His right hand grasped David’s cock at the base, while his left braced on David’s thigh.  He held David in place, as he licked around the head of his cock, swirling around until he was lapping at the underside, the sensitive spot that always sparked a reaction.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick doubled down his efforts, and while David moaned softly above him, it wasn’t quite the response Patrick expected.  He pulled back from David, comfortably on his heels.  “Tell me how to make it better, David.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David considered him carefully, darkened pupils through squinted eyes.  Wordlessly, he crunched forward, just enough to be able to reach a hand and curl it into Patrick’s hair.  Assertively, he directed Patrick towards his cock and held him there as he began to thrust.  Patrick relaxed and relinquished control, knowing that David needed to be in command at this moment, but would still never do anything to hurt him.  He kept his mouth soft, and warm, and his tongue in the right spot, as David used him as he needed.  It didn’t take long - the stress of the day had taken a toll, and David was ready for a release - before he came in Patrick’s mouth, and Patrick willingly swallowed what David gave him.  Though David loosened his grip on Patrick’s hair, he held David in his mouth for a few moments too long, until David was a little twitchy with sensitivity, before gently removing his softening cock from his mouth, and laying it across his groin.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he nestled his head against David’s hip crease.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” David responded softly, petting Patrick’s hair, “let’s go home, please.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Though outwardly David seemed fine, Patrick suspected he was still licking his wounds about the miscommunication surrounding apartment hunting.  What would normally be lighthearted teasing about Patrick’s lack of visual aesthetic turned into biting comments about his apartment decor.  Or, the anticipated self-deprecating remarks about David’s lack of fitness in the face of the three-storey walk up were replaced with unhealthy body dysmorphic statements.  Seeing David spiral about </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> was painful for Patrick, but knowing that his inability to communicate clearly was the root cause was breaking his heart.  And he knew he had to fix it.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started by taking David out for dinner in Elmdale - a new Mexican joint named </span>
  <em>
    <span>Juan in a Million Tacos.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>The name made David roll his eyes, but the salty corn elote, and the peppery and gooey queso fundido won him over with one bite.  While waiting for their dulce de leche to arrive, Patrick slid a small box across the table, ribboned with black and blue.  David opened it to find a key to Patrick’s apartment, where, Patrick explained, David was always welcome.  He saw David’s face soften, and the wrinkle that had settled between his brows for the last week loosened slightly.  Patrick desperately wanted to kiss any remaining tension away, but that would have to wait for the next part of his plan.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were no candles, no rose petals, no fairy lights, absolutely no cliche romantic devices set up when they finally entered Patrick’s new apartment.  The ambience could only be described as “none”.  A few neatly labeled boxes, arranged in their appropriate rooms, a single floor lamp, and Patrick’s new bed were the only items, dimly visible in the darkened apartment.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As anticipated, David made a comment about his lack of fitness, bent over slightly with his hands on his thighs, exaggerating his thighs for what he thought was comedic effect.  Patrick took both of his hands, and pulled him to standing.  “David.  If you want to get more exercise, I will certainly support you.  But you need to know that I love your body, right?”  David grimaced, looking anywhere but at Patrick.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick dropped David’s hands, in favour of cupping his face gently.  He pressed a soft kiss to David’s lips, chaste, but sure.  His right hand tracked up and into David’s hair, while his left slid back down to David’s hand, interlacing their fingers.  He tugged David towards the bed, and encouraged him to sit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick knelt at David’s feet, untying each Rick Owens sneaker, removing them in turn.  As he pulled off David’s right sock, Patrick traced his thumb along David’s ankle bone.  “<em>I love you here</em>,” he said softly, reverently.  And as the left sock slipped over the last of David’s toes, Patrick did the same on the other side.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting up a little taller, Patrick reached up to undo David’s jeans, tapping his hip to get him to lift briefly before pulling them all the way off.  He caressed the back of both of David’s calves, as he tenderly kissed both knees.  “<em>I love you here</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands rubbed up the outside of David’s upper legs, coming to rest on his thighs.  Using David as purchase, he came to standing.  His right palm ghosted over David’s cheek, grip becoming more firm on David’s jaw.  He tilted David’s face up, waiting until David’s eyes settled on his own before he leaned forward for another brief kiss.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David’s shirt was next.  Patrick’s fingers danced over the freckles on David’s shoulders.  “<em>I love you here.</em>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick's hands squeezed David's biceps, and drew patterns down his flank.  One finger traced down David’s sternum.  Patrick kissed David’s midline.  “<em>I love you here.</em>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick could feel David start to squirm under his intense focus.  He knew he was likely reaching the inevitable limits of David’s tolerance, so he pressed him back, gesturing for him to get fully on the bed.  He benevolently pulled David’s underwear down his lithe, strong legs, pausing only for additional kisses along the inside of David’s thighs.  “<em>I love you here.</em>”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he came to straddle David’s upper legs.  “<em>I really love you here,</em>” he murmured, as he nuzzled David’s hip crease.  “But do you know where I love you most?”  Patrick looked up at David, who was watching him intently.  The only light coming in the window from the waxing moon rising in the sky highlighting the mist in David’s eyes.  Unable to speak he shook his head.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until Patrick had finished tenderly worshipping David’s body, his hands spelling love with every touch, and his mouth saying what his hands did not, that he answered his own question.  Curled up under the covers, with David’s head resting on his chest, Patrick whispered “<em>here.</em>”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David and Patrick stumbled to the bed, stripping their matching pyjamas off, tripping over remnants of the housewarming party.  The rest of the clean-up would have to wait until tomorrow.  Patrick’s jealousy had him desperate to assert David as his and only his, and David was </span>
  <em>
    <span>all in</span>
  </em>
  <span> for possessive Patrick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naked, they crashed onto the bed.  Patrick straddled David’s hips, pinning him down.  He stroked David’s cock a couple times, before taking his own in hand.  Patrick’s intention clear - mark </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> territory.  He was in no mood to take his time, as he rapidly fisted his cock, up, down, and a little over the head for good measure.  Patrick felt the tension begin to coil in his groin as he increased his efforts.  Below him, David watched, entranced by this version of his boyfriend he had yet to see.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sheen of sweat broke out across Patrick’s forehead as he furiously stroked himself.  The tension now ebbing away, rather than intensifying.  He furrowed his brow in concentration, his hand a blur.  “Fuck!” Patrick cried out, tipping forward, resting his head on David’s chest. “Too fucking drunk!”  He felt David laugh before it became audible, and though the tips of his ears were reddened with embarrassment, eventually Patrick laughed too.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“All I’m saying, is that love isn’t a pre-requisite for sex.  Sometimes sex is just sex.  And it should be fun, Patrick!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, David.  Well, at least for now, I think I’d like to keep any third parties in our bedroom relegated to fantasy status.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David smirked.  “Like Ted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Jesus</em>, David, I’m far too hungover for this! I’m literally sweating out lime jello.  I’m taking a shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still smirking.  “Can I come?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>David had barely crossed the threshold when Patrick was <em> on </em> him.  David held him at bay while he kicked off his cleats.  “Okay, I am here for <em>all of this</em>,” he said, hands gesturing in Patrick’s general direction, “but I really need to get out of <em>this</em> and take a shower.” He gestured towards his uniform.</p><p>Patrick crowded David up against the wall.  “Nuh uh,” he pouted, sliding his hands in David’s back pockets, and mouthing just above his collar.  He took a deep inhale of David’s sweaty musk and found a spot to suck a deep purple mark, all while making <em> filthy </em> sounds.  Thoughts of showers, and skin care, and anything else coherent and logical, were quickly taking their leave from David’s brain.  </p><p>“So, um, I’m beginning to think this <em> costume </em> is a thing for you?”</p><p>Patrick pulled David off the wall, and began walking him towards the bed.  “<em>It’s...called...a….uniform</em>,” each word punctuated with a kiss to David’s neck.  “And <em> fuck, yes </em>.”</p><p>David gasped as he was firmly pulled to straddle Patrick on the bed.  “<em>Oh</em>!  Is this one of business-major Patrick’s college fantasies?”  Patrick gave David a once over, the heat in his gaze unmistakable.  “<em>Mmm-hmm.</em>”</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick’s eyes were having trouble focusing, and his hands couldn’t stop roaming over the green fabric covering David’s arms.  The Cafe Tropical logo was bookended by Patrick’s calves pressed up against David’s chest, and he could feel the comparatively coarse polyester of David’s pants against his thighs as David lined is cock up, ready to give Patrick what he had been fantasizing about all damn day.  He slid in torturously slow, drawing a satisfied sigh from Patrick, and once fully seated, folded Patrick in half, closing the distance for a kiss.  </p><p>David leaned back, hiking Patrick’s hips further up his lap.  Using his hands on Patrick’s thighs as leverage, he set a steady pace of drawing out and driving back in. He played with patterns, finding the angles that caused Patrick to gasp, or his back to arch.  He pulled out, and waited for Patrick to make eye contact, before slamming back into him, Patrick’s eyes growing wide each time, before returning to the dreamy half-open state of a man living out a fantasy of his younger self.  David gentled his thrusts as Patrick came, hot and hard, and then slowly withdrew, finishing himself off on Patrick’s chest as Patrick watched, enraptured.  </p><p>David collapsed next to Patrick on the bed.  “Okay, <em> now </em> can I take this uniform off?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Patrick slipped under the covers, tucking himself into David’s side.  David’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, his thumb drawing gentle circles on Patrick’s skin, still warm and pink from the shower.  Patrick closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, soothing himself with the warmth, and comforting and familiar scent of David.  He felt David lean away slightly to place his phone on the nightstand before coming back to press a kiss to Patrick’s temple and pull him in tight with both arms. Today had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Patrick was feeling a little emotionally wrung out.  He burrowed a little deeper into David’s embrace.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need, honey?” David murmured, brushing Patrick’s damp hair off his forehead.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick let out a shuddery breath, and braved a look into David’s eyes.  “Just this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick felt, more than he heard, David’s contented hum as he tightened his grip around Patrick’s body curled against him.  Concentrating on his breath, it wasn’t long before Patrick was snoring softly.  David gently shuffled them away from the headboard, rolling Patrick onto his side, and cocooning behind him.  Briefly woken up by the shifting bed, Patrick felt David tenderly kiss behind his ear and whisper “<em>I’m so proud of you" </em>before dreamless sleep overtook him once again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Brewer men don’t cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick scrunched his eyes closed, willing the tears to stop, as if sheer force of </span>
  <em>
    <span>belief </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it wasn’t in his genetic makeup would help.  The kleenex, clenched in his fist, already soggy and needing replacement.  The sniffles kept low to not wake up David.  And </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he was failing at that, too, as he felt David shift behind him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, what’s wrong?” David asked, his voice low and a little hoarse.  Patrick cleared his throat, and tried his best to sound normal, however his answering “</span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>” came out phlegmmy and congested.  He felt David scoot behind him, tucking his knees behind Patrick’s.  His chest pressed up against Patrick’s back, and a hand snaked up Patrick’s shirt to rest on his sternum.  His warm breath ghosted across the back of Patrick’s neck.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick took a deep breath, letting it out on a shaky exhale, and gathering up all the courage he could in the faint light of dawn.  “I’m so sorry, David,” he managed to croak out before the eruption of uncontrollable sobs wracked his body, the bed shaking beneath them.  David held him close, whispering validations of Patrick's feelings, sweet affirmations, and a non-negotiable rejection of Patrick’s urge to apologize once again for not having told his parents about David, about his truth.  David only lessened his hold on Patrick to allow him to turn towards him, resuming his vise-like hold when Patrick buried his head in David’s chest, still sobbing.  With his lips pressed to Patrick’s forehead, David waited him out. Really, there’s nowhere he would rather have been, and he murmured those words against Patrick’s skin, in case he wasn’t sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the tears slowed, and Patrick drew his head back, looking in David’s soft, brown eyes.  His own, red and glassy.  He felt David brush a tear off his cheek with his thumb, and tilt his head back slightly, pressing their lips together in a tender kiss.  When David pulled back, Patrick chased forward, finding David’s lips once again, and kissing him as though he needed it like he needed oxygen to breathe.  He knew David was letting him take the lead here, giving Patrick the space to take what he needed, with no expectation.  Their lips still grazing together, Patrick whispered “please, David” before deepening the kiss, licking lightly at the seam of David’s lips.  David’s eyes, and his perfect brow, wordlessly asked Patrick “are you sure?” and he was met with a roll of Patrick’s hips, a hand grasping the back of his head, and the heat of a kiss of a man finally set free.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, let me get this straight.  You packed two big backpacks full of cheese, AND condoms and lube, on the <em>off-chance</em> that I was down for a trail-fuck, and STILL no first aid kit?”</p><p>Patrick huffed a laugh at his <em> fiancé </em>, who was folding the picnic blanket back up.  “Well, David, I knew that hiking back down with come leaking down your leg would be - “</p><p>“<em>Incorrect</em>!”</p><p>“Mmhmm.  And besides, of all the sounds you were making, not <em>one</em> sounded like a complaint.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wait!” David felt Patrick cross his ankles behind David’s back, keeping him in place.  “You’ve just got - here….” He reached up to thumb at a smudge of makeup that had transferred to David’s cheek, and to pull David close for a languid kiss, before releasing his hold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David slowly slid out of Patrick, and stepped back from the bed, casting a long, and fond, glance towards his fiancé. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leather suspenders that framed Patrick’s crotch and sexy garters above the knee were a treat, albeit one ultimately intended for public consumption whilst Patrick was on stage.  But this, remnants of stage makeup, smokey eye now faded, and a look of fucked-out bliss was all his. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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